Stepping Stones
by Ponytales
Summary: Lester owes her, and when he gets the call about restarting the ARC he has to make a call of his own. AU from Series 3. Sequel to 'Annoyance Squared' and 'Much Ado About Something'.


**Stepping Stones**

**Rating:** PG-13

**Summery:** Lester owes her, and when he gets the call about restarting the ARC he has to make a call of his own. AU from Series 3. Sequel to _'Annoyance Squared'._

**A/N:** This is set in my universe _Much ado about Something _and _Annoyance Squared._ If you don't read those first then you'll be totally lost about why Christine Johnson and James Lester are getting along.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Primeval and I'm certainly not making any money off this.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Well. This was truly unexpected. Lester had been summoned to a last minute meeting with Minister Whitehall one shiny Monday morning the instant he walked into his office. He wondered what it could be about when he sat down at the conference table across from the only other person there. Whitehall hadn't even arrived yet. A dark-haired man with a faintly olive cast to his features was the only one in the conference room. The stranger introduced himself. He had several binders sitting in front of him and he seemed eager to get started. Lester hated eager people.

The eager beaver reached across the table, offering to shake, "Hello, I'm Philip Burton."

"James Lester," he hated to appear unprepared more than he hated eager people, "do you know what this is all about?"

Burton smiled at him and he looked exceptionally smug. "I do actually, I arranged this meeting."

Lester shifted a little, "Really? What's all this about then?" Someone that could arrange a spur of the moment meeting with Minister Whitehall was someone with a lot of pull or a lot of money. Or a lot of both. Burton's answer showed that he fell into the last category.

"The anomalies, of course. I'll get into it more when the others have arrived...and here they are."

Minister Whitehall, senior manager Tomas and another senior manager Lester recognized from around the office but didn't really know followed him into the room. There were some hasty introductions and Burton jumped right into his presentation.

"As some of you know my company has been interested in expanding our science and technology research base. We've partnered with several government programs to everyone's benefit. Minister Whitehall first briefed me about the Anomaly Research Center a month or two ago when we took over the care for the creatures. We've been doing our own analysis of the anomalies potential."

A _private company_ was fiddling around with the anomalies? Lester couldn't stop himself, "Excuse me, but the anomalies are incredibly dangerous, that's why the project was shut down!" The faces of his lost team floated in his mind for just an instant before he squashed them and drew himself back to the conversation.

"Yes, something I believe you argued against?" Burton smoothly took up. "Don't worry Mr. Lester, Minister Whitehall isn't letting my company have carte blanche to study the anomalies. He insisted that it be a joint venture and he recommended you to supervise the government side. We're here to hash out the details."

Lester was dumbfounded as he turned to his boss. "Really?"

Whitehall shrugged. "It seemed easiest, you know exactly how dangerous they are and his company can put the money into figuring out why they're happening." He gestured to the other men beside him, "If you don't want the job then Mr. Tomas or Mr. Lewis will gladly take up the reins."

They were replacements for him? Absolutely not. "I want it." He flicked his fingers at Burton. "Carry on then."

Burton grinned at him, "Let's start with the details. My company will provide most of the scientists, and we'd like everyone that worked on the project before to be reassigned to it to help us catch up. In addition we'll provide the actual hands on wet work people to go the sites, secure them, and deal with any creatures that happen to come through."

"I want Captain Becker." The words were out of Lester mouth before he could stop them, or think about all the different ways that could be misconstrued. "He's the best, he won't underestimate anything. He'll run the field team."

Burton hesitated, "We don't really need a military presence, that's beyond your budget anyway. My company can provide security."

Lester wouldn't budge. "No. Becker's the head of security and he works for me, not you. And he gets to assemble the team he wants for the anomaly sites."

Burton arched an eyebrow at him already digging in his heels on this point. "Now I understand why Minister Whitehall insisted you be in charge of the government side of this. Fine. You can have your Captain Becker but I insist on putting some of my own people on the response team also."

Back and forth they went. The other men in the room hardly offered a word in edgewise as Lester and Burton hammered out the details of their new arrangement. Lester demanded a large fortune to be the operating budget for the year and Burton didn't even blink at the amount, which made him wish he had asked for more. So with Abby's earnest voice in his memory he insisted that the new ARC be expanded to include a menagerie for the creatures with appropriate fencing and exercise yards.

That made Burton squirm and Lester highly suspicious. "They are all still alive aren't they?" He asked pointedly. "You haven't chopped any of them up have you?"

"Yes! Of course they're all alive I just...didn't consider that you'd want it all under one roof as it were." Burton tried to defect. "We'll have to modify the building somewhat but I think that can be arranged."

Occasionally they turned to Whitehall to referee on one point or another but by the end of the day they had all the major points of this cost and responsibility sharing program worked out.

Lester waited until Burton had left for the day before he cornered Whitehall.

Damn obligations. "There's one other point I need to bring up and I didn't want to do it in front of him."

"What's that James?" Whitehall was stacking up his notes and getting ready to leave the room. The other two had long ago left once in became abundantly apparent that Lester wasn't giving up the ARC and he didn't particularly want either of them to be managers there. He never did like to share his toys. Now he was going to have to.

"MI-6. They're going to start their own research program just like they did before if they don't have a presence in this one. We need an Intel liaison to keep them in check."

Whitehall let the amusement in his face show as he forced James to say it.

"Who exactly do you have in mind for that?"

Lester gritted his teeth. "Christine." Amusing as he obviously found that idea, James could already see Whitehall dismissing it. "I don't know James, she's your girlfriend, what if you two have a falling out or something?"

"We can keep it professional at work, and you know I'm right. Look at what she managed to do before! Those cretins at MI-6 will most certainly put her in charge of infiltrating this project and damn it sir, I hate to admit this and I'll deny it if you tell her, but she's really good at that!"

Whitehall sighed. "I don't know. It seems like too big a risk, I know you're viewing your history together through rose colored classes now that you're all twitter-pated with each other but I remember exactly how explosive you two could be together."

Twitter-pated? He actually described them as twitter-pated? They did far too good a job at their fake-date then.

"That was when we were working at cross-purposes to each other." Lester knew he was starting to go around in circles. "Look. We do need someone from MI-6 or they're just going to invite themselves in anyway. A stern memo to bugger off won't stop them. It doesn't have to be her but she does have the experience." Lester hesitated and wondered how far he could push this, "Frankly sir, I'd feel better if she was on our side for once."

"I'll think about it." Whitehall compromised, "I'll see you tomorrow and we'll finish hashing out the details."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

James rang Christine as soon as he got into his car.

She answered on the third ring and her voice was nearly drowned out by a sound he thought he had left in his distant past.

**RATTATTATATATATAT! **Was that automatic weapons fire? It _was_, wasn't it!

"Christine? Where are you?"

She glanced briefly around the small berm she was laying behind. "Somewhere sunny."

"Is someone shooting?"

"Yup."

"At you?"

"Yup."

"Oh dear." James felt a brief twinge of worry, "I can call you later." It had been a few years but talking on the phone during a firefight 'somewhere sunny' was probably not the safest thing.

James didn't know it was the south of France at a restricted army base during a NATO joint training exercise for special operations teams. She didn't see any pressing reason to enlighten him.

"Oh don't worry about it James. I can talk now." The umpire supervising the training exercise told them all crisply to keep it down, they were supposed to be dead. She wasn't the only one on her phone, killing time as the Special Forces team that overran them moved on down the range, completely unaware that they had made a nearly fatal mistake.

It was such a pity they had tossed a paint-grenade over the berm instead of charging it. Safer for them, but if they had taken her 'alive' they would have gotten a chance to try out their terrible Arabic. She did a wonderful hysterical babbling woman. If they could follow along from their classes they'd learn a little important information, like where the hostage they were looking for was hidden. Pity she was dead.

"What's up James?" She inched into what little shade the berm cast and cursed her stifling hot burqa and all the managers that insisted that they all be in proper cultural dress. "Have your babies escaped?"

He hated it when she called them that. "No. They're still destroying your back garden. I've just had a meeting with Whitehall and a very wealthy man named Philip Burton. They're considering reopening the ARC project."

Christine sat up in shock and ignored the umpire telling her to lay back down. "That stegosaurus incident finally rattled them enough? Am I in?"

Of course she would know about that. Never mind it was eyes only and classified six ways from Sunday. He put it out of his mind. "I don't know. I tried. You can start making noises in your agency."

"You are dead damn it!" The umpire shouted at her in heavily accented English when she kept ignoring him, "They're coming back around. All of you put your phones away."

"James, I've got to go- I'll call you tonight." She hung up the phone before he could ask who exactly was coming back around and laid down in her sprawled out, paint-ball murdered position. If they didn't think about searching the bodies this time they were going to fail the whole exercise. It was such a pity the maps and documents the special forces team needed to move on was in her pocket. They had to learn attention to detail somehow.

O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

When she got back to the on-base hotel room she had been assigned she took the chance to get cleaned up before calling her boss and updating him on the latest news. He had been delighted that someone else's budget was reopening the anomaly project and absolutely thrilled that she brought that to his attention. She felt just a bit like a suck-up when she asked about the possibility of a transfer. Of course she could be assigned to them! He promised he'd call Whitehall the very next day to make the arrangements.

That sorted, she called James.

"Are you all right?" He asked, seemingly surprised she was still alive.

"Never better! I spoke to my superiors and they're going to take it up with Whitehall. Honestly, if he doesn't let me in then they're just going to have me exploit our relationship and spy on the new ARC anyway. Whitehall isn't the only one that thinks it's funny we're supposed to be madly in love." How juicy gossip traveled between offices was mind boggling.

Lester felt the nervousness around his chest slip away, "That's about what I told him. Hopefully hearing it from another source also will convince him of the need." He wondered how she could be so cheerful mere hours after someone was trying to kill her. He knew she wouldn't tell him anything beyond what she already had, that was the trouble with seeing someone that had a classified job. Not that he was really seeing her. The line between fake-dating and real flirting was getting a little blurry. He couldn't resist. "So...how would you exploit our relationship?"

"Oh...I suppose I could use my feminine wiles on you...get you to tell me all your secrets." She licked her lips, she really needed to get a real boyfriend. "You'd crack in a heartbeat.

He snorted. "You'd have to to try pretty hard then. I'm uncrackable."

"I think I could make you talk." She flirted, "I've had extensive training in interrogation. You'd be begging to talk."

"Really?" He sounded intrigued, "I've heard near death experiences can make woman horny. Is this going to devolve into phone sex?"

She laughed, "Maybe." She dropped her voice down to low and husky, "What are you wearing?" The spell totally broke when she giggled.

He looked down and lied. "Pajamas. On that note I'm going to bed."

Her lips curved up in a smile. "Good night then."

"Good night Christine." He hung up the phone and looked down again. That damn memory of waking up on top of her had floated to the surface. He could only remember wisps of the actual details but it had been incredibly hot and his body was responding. Heaven help him if she actually did try to get to him to 'talk'.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

It was three more days before she finally got to return to rainy, damp London. One brief stop at her office to debrief the boss and get updated on her next project was the only thing standing between her and home sweet home.

The Diictodons piled all over her when she let them into the house and they all had to be patted and reassured that she did miss them before they would leave her along long enough to get unpacked. They were needy as a litter of collie puppies sometimes.

She was just walking back into her living room wearing nothing but a bathrobe with her hair wrapped up with a towel when she heard her front door open. She froze in the hallway and thought about where the nearest hidden pistol was and how quickly she could get to it when she heard a very familiar, very irritated voice addressing the diictodons, "How the devil did you lot get back in the house? You better not have torn another hole in the wall!" Christine relaxed and took the last two steps out into the living room.

"Hello James."

He looked up at her in complete surprise. "Christine. I didn't think you'd be back until tomorrow night." He was standing near the door with his hands on his hips, still in position to lecture the three baby diictodons that were in the living room. They were watching him intently, to see if he did anything amusing. Sometimes he hopped about and made shouty noises. He could be a very funny biped sometimes. This time their hope was in vain and after a few seconds they wandered off. Christine watched them gallop out of the room and she resumed rubbing her hair dry. "Nope. It's always been today. You must have written it down wrong."

"Oh. Well. I'll just be going then." He made as if to leave but then something occurred to him suddenly. He smirked at her, "You owe me. They tunneled through the wall between the hallway and your office. I had it repaired while you were gone. I do believe you at least owe me dinner."

It cost him almost two hundred pounds for a little bit of sheetrock and paint. That was the third time too. If this kept up he was going to break down and learn how to patch the damn stuff himself, it was getting too expensive to pay a handyman every time the silly beasts decided to make a hole. The part that pissed him off the most was when he saw that the door was completely open into that room and not a meter away from the hole they gnawed. If they wanted in there they could have just _walked in_.

She went down the hallway and surveyed the wall. That handyman was good. She couldn't even see where he'd replaced a piece and repainted it. "All right then. I'll buy." Not having to deal with a hole in the wall was worth buying him dinner. "Let me go get ready." He was already settling in on the couch with the telly remote in his hand. Her tv was an enormous digital flat screen with HD. As a man, he lusted after it. He'd never admit it but he stayed and watched the game on her tv when she wasn't home after feeding the beasts.

He kicked his shoes off and laid down on the couch, ready to put in thirty or forty minutes of hard rugby match watching while she fiddled around getting dressed. He was right on the money at thirty minutes.

When they got in his car she didn't bat an eye when he suggested a very nice steakhouse that wasn't very far away. "Sounds good." He fished a little, even though he knew she wasn't going to talk, "Especially after two weeks of foreign food?"

She knew what he was about and played it cool, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"All those middle eastern spices don't rile your gut?"

"What make you think I was in the middle east? Anywhere in the entire world could be described as sunny." She pointed out logically.

"Oh I see how it is," he groused, "I get you back in the ARC and you won't even give a hint."

"I believe my previous history got me back into the ARC."

"I helped. I asked Whitehall for you."

"Yes, I read that memo he sent." She couldn't believe her eyes when her boss had chuckled and handed it to her, "If Whitehall had his way then I would be under you...and not in a good way."

He smirked as he pulled into the parking lot of the busy steakhouse. That had been a hilarious email for everyone that knew both of them. She continued on, "I believe the exact wording was," she cleared her throat, "The chain of command will have the intelligence liaison officer be directly under the home office manager, currently James Lester." She giggled, "Do you think Whitehall thought about all the ways that sentence could be construed?" Judging by the amount of people casually watching as she read it, her office certainly did.

"I really hope not." He replied dourly.

"Under might not even be my preference. He might have given the whole office the wrong idea about me." She jokingly lamented as they were shown to their table. It was a booth, about halfway down the back wall of the restaurant.

"You weren't complaining last time."

They continued to banter back and forth as they ordered. He was marginally surprised that she joined him in getting the sirloin steak and then surprised him more when she got hers medium rare like a civilized person. She noticed his surprise. "What? You expect me to be here and order a salad? Not bloody likely."

"Right." He moved on and remembered something he'd wanted to mention. "Speaking of...I notice you like Terry Pratchett books." The shelf in her office that held every book he ever wrote or co-wrote was a bit of a broad hint.

"Yeah?"

"I saw a preview for Going Postal."

"What? Seriously?"

"Seriously. It was on the telly a few days ago. I'll show you." He pulled out his phone and dialed up youtube. It only took a moment to find the trailer and load it. "Here." He passed his phone over and watched her grin as he watched her reaction to the silly movie trailer. "I'm seeing that." She declared as the video ended. "I always like the Patrician."

James snorted. "You would. He was an assassin that got control of the whole city. Just your style. I bet Cruella De Ville was your favorite Disney character."

She tossed her hair back with a sexy flip of her head. "What's wrong with Cruella? She knew what she wanted. She even had minions to get it for her."

"She wanted a coat made out of puppies! I find that wildly hypocritical of you considering you didn't like my tiny handbag idea." He sighed, "I could be a millionaire by now."

"Oh stop!" She nudged him under the table with her foot, "you know you'd never hurt your babies."

"Your babies!" He corrected her, "They live at your house."

"And you just pay for their room, their food and all the things they break." Her grin widened. "It's like child support really."

He winced as he quickly added up what he had spent over the last few months on them. It really was depressingly like child support. He'd had to have a sunroom/patio added onto the back of Christine's house for them to stay warm during bad weather and wintertime. It had stone walls halfway up and a flagstone floor to keep them contained. That alone had been ridiculously expensive.

After that he had to pay a crew to drive rebar every few inches along the fence to keep them in when they tried to dig under the fence. One of them had commented that his dog was never going to escape this back garden! If they only knew...

They weren't in his condo. He repeated that like his personal mantra. They weren't in his condo. He only kept Rex and frankly Rex didn't bother him at all anymore. Rex didn't destroy anything. Rex didn't mess anything up. He just flew around and mugged for attention. They weren't in his condo.

Their waiter returned with their appetizer and the conversation wandered around to other things besides their pets. He still tried to wheedle where she was for the past few weeks out of her. She still deflected him. It was a game. They kept up the friendly chatter during their supper and it was like the other few times they had shared a meal. It went by quicker than expected.

The waiter set the check down at his elbow and told them that he'd be their cashier whenever they were ready. James waited until the waiter left before he casually slid the check across the table. "I believe I've spent enough money on you this week."

"I'll get it, I said I'd get it." She dug through her purse for her bank card. He smiled at her, very pleased that he wasn't really paying for his steak. She rolled her eyes at him.

They were both full and sleepy on the way back to her house. "This was fun James." She commented idly, "We should do this more often...but with you paying."

"We'll see." He glanced over at her and caught her watching him out of the corner of her eye. She blushed slightly and looked away. That was interesting. "When?"

"I don't know. I'm leaving again on Tuesday. It's another ten days."

James turned into her neighborhood. "I practically live over here. I'm here more than I'm home when you're gone."

"I know." She knew he loved her tv. It was always set to the sports channel when she returned. He just thought she hadn't noticed the games he had ordered on her cable bill. There were worse things he could be watching, but now she was drawn to one of her new favorite hobbies. Teasing him. "You love to spend time with your babies."

He snorted.

"You miss them so much during the day."

Louder snort.

"In fact, I bet you carry a picture of them in your wallet."

"Ha! I don't even have a picture of the silly beasts." They were in the driveway and she unfastened her seatbelt. "I suppose I'll see you around."

"I suppose." She was still in the car and looking at him oddly for just a second before she masked it. "Later." She was out and walking towards her door before he could say anything else. He waited until she got inside like he always did before he pulled away. What had that odd look been about? He wondered about it for a second before he dismissed it out of his mind. She was a very odd woman. Who knew what crazy thought had skittered through her mind?

Inside Christine locked the door behind her and leaned against it. For just an instant...the barest instant she had been tempted to kiss him goodnight. Thankfully she had resisted. He'd never let her live it down, doing a daft thing like that. It was a perfectly natural impulse. They'd had a lovely supper and it was very traditional to end with a kiss goodnight...or a bit more than a kiss if it had been a date. That was the key word. If. She shook her head ruefully and went to bed.

O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

A/N: Yes, that was a completely shameless plug for Going Postal, one of my favorite Terry Pratchett books. If only they make Night Watch and Monstrous Regiment into movies I think that would make my whole entertainment decade.

If I entertained you at all then please drop me a review! It really makes my day. Good...bad...indifferent...I loves all reviews.

I've got some vague thoughts about doing a prequel to this series that explains **why** they hated each other so passionately. If you think about it that duck and cover move he did the first time she walked into the ARC wasn't a normal reaction to someone merely disliking someone else. There was much history there... They are tentatively titled _'What happens in Bangkok_' and '_One night in Cairo_'. They'd be stand alones that didn't conflict with canon...oh the places I could go ;) Villain Christine!


End file.
